This Weird Quirk
by Fiyeraaron
Summary: A person's Book holds their entire life, and Enjolras has the power to change that.


He finds out he has powers when he is thirteen years old. He has just set his school locker on fire and he's getting threatened with expulsion. He supposes it was actually his fault, he was the one to stage the speech in the middle of the hallway, then proceed to stuff his locker with some scrap paper and set it alight. Technically, the teachers should have expected it- they were the ones to give him that grade B (like he'd settle for anything less than an A, he obviously deserved it).

His mother had picked him up from school and sent him straight to his room. He had gotten his Book out and proceeded to read the account of what happened. However, when he touched the page, his anger and annoyance seemed to translate on to the page, the words changing and morphing into a completely different story.

He's had the Book for as long as he can remember. They were introduced before his parents were born, and it's since become a law that everybody carries their own personal Book around with them. He doesn't know how they work, but somehow they contain everybody's experiences, from birth up to the present moment. His is a red leather bound Book with a golden cursive illustration, looking almost classical. He's seen other books, and every one has their own unique cover, so he likes to sometimes take a peek at others he sees as he passes people in the street, so he can tell the person's personality without even talking to them. It's a weird law, this whole Book thing, but it sometimes comes in handy. A person's Book is told to be their most prized possession, so he's not surprised when people become very secretive about its insides. Every book is interlinked, however, so when somebody does something in one book, everybody that it affect's Books will change too.

But when he sits on his bed, skimming through the last few pages of his Book, the last account seems to have changed. It says that somebody else set his locker on fire. But, thanks to Enjolras' brilliant memory, he clearly remembers that he was the one to set the locker on fire. From this, he quickly deduces that there must be something wrong with his Book. Some kind of defect.

But his Book seems normal. He tries it again. He flicks to a random page- his first day of school. He drew a picture of a house that day in red- so he thinks really hard of that house being black instead, and then it transcends onto the paper and the words have been altered.

That's how he realises he has powers.

He doesn't dare search his powers on the internet. The government checks everything they do, they could find out his gift and punish him. He's heard of it happening before- people getting punished for misusing their Books.

He does, however, meet people that can do the same things he can. One day, an account in his book changes and he swears he had nothing to do with it. He remember the original interaction clearly enough to know it has changed. He bumped into a person with brown curly hair on his way home from school, and he accidentally made the boy spill his bottle of cranberry juice all over his white T-shirt. He apologised breezily on the day, but more than a week later, it says that the boy was actually holding water, and that the liquid went on Enjolras instead.

He asks his friend, Combeferre if he knows of the boy. With trepidation, he tries to describe the boy. Brown curly hair, brown eyes, quite short. Then he's stumped. But, as he looks into Combeferre's eyes, those eyes that he's known since he was three, he realises that he can trust Combeferre.

So he tells him of his powers. And with Combeferre's knowing smile, he knows he understands too.

He is fifteen when Combeferre tells him there is already a group. They call themselves Les Amis- he doesn't know why, but he doesn't question it. He's finally found people like him, he's not gonna endanger this opportunity. He meets the boy he bumped into; Courfeyrac, he tells him with a smirk. There's a boy called Jehan who wears florals constantly which contrast greatly with his best friend, Bahorel's, clothing choices- black leather. A boy called Grantaire who smiles at him and makes a cocky remark about how he looks like a god, at which he rolls his eyes. Joly, the resident medic apparently, gives him a grin and a hand shake, telling him that he's happy there's another addition to their mismatched group. While he's talking to Joly, his attention is suddenly brought to a man about five years older than himself, who stumbles through the door of the café they reside in, almost falling into Courfeyrac as he does it. Joly tells him the clumsy man is called Bossuet, the man in question seeming to be blushing and apologising profusely to a laughing Courfeyrac.

By the end of the night, he's smiling.

He feels accepted with Les Amis. They all have ideas of how they can use their powers to make the world better. How they can change politician's Books in the people's favour. And he likes being a part of something so special.

He's walking back from a meeting with Les Amis when he stumbles upon something on the floor. It's dark, so he can barely see the details. But when he bends down to pick it up, he can pinpoint the distinct shape and size of the object. He grabs it and pushes it inside his jacket, striding home so he can uncover it.

Once he dodges the enquiries of his mother, and the judgement of his father, he scurries to his room and throws the object on his bed. It's almost a stark contrast to his own. It's black, but it has speckles of white and grey on the cover. He wonders who would have a Book such as this. A murderer perhaps, maybe a convict. It looks interesting and mysterious however, and he almost stops himself from reaching for it. Yet, when he touches the spine of the Book, he feels drawn to what is inside.

He nearly feels guilty when he opens the front page, but then he gets drawn in to the story and he feels himself falling.

How could someone even lose their Book? He finds himself wondering about this a lot now that he actually has another person's in his possession. He keeps the Book underneath his pillow, not wanting to dare taking it outside. Surely this type of thing is against the law- then again, he's practically a walking illegality by now.

He's been- once again, illegally- reading her Book. He's only up to her being ten years old, and he becomes entranced by her life. He learns that her father is a horrible man, forcing her into his life of thievery and law defying schemes, beating her when she doesn't comply. Her mother isn't all that better, constantly trying to push her off on the first boy who she deems wealthy enough to provide the family a rich income. She has a sister, a girl called Azelma, who she almost never sees. A brother, Gavroche, who he swears he's heard of before. He has no idea what she looks like, but he feels himself getting enraptured in her life and he begins to imagine her doing the things accounted in her Book.

He reads that on her fourteenth birthday, her father introduced her to a young boy called Montparnasse. Apparently they're going to be married, that she doesn't have a say in it. He finds himself frowning at this, despite the amount of times he's heard of arranged marriages in the fairy tales he reads which he never paid any particular thought to. This idea affects him in weird ways, and he doesn't like it.

In his own Book, it doesn't say that he has been reading the girl's book. It's just a blank page in the account that should read that he's been sat on his bed reading a girl that he didn't know's Book for three days. It's baffling. He doesn't try to make sense of it, just carries on reading this girl's life.

He likes to think that she physically matches her Book cover. He imagines her with dark hair, dark eyes, dark voice. And, from this, he tries to find her in the streets. Looking for girls with dark hair and eyes, someone who is damaged and isolated from her family. However, once he realises there are way too many people in the Paris to try and pin point the Book to one particular person in the street, he gives up on trying to find her, and more on trying to understand her.

She's fifteen when he has to close her book and shove it in the back of his wardrobe for a week. He just read the account of how this boy, Montparnasse, forced himself upon her. It's made him want to find her even more, to get her away from the disgusting family and life she has been forced into. But, after reading the passage, he's far too angry to carry on reading, so he settles to just seethe silently.

His friends, however, notice. Yes, he calls them friends now, after more than a year of knowing them, he's resulted in accepting the fact they are his friends.

They ask him why he's beginning to lose his focus on his work, why he keeps drifting off into space every now and again. Grantaire and Courfeyrac say it's because he likes someone- he shakes his head. How could he like someone he's never even met, never even spoken to?

He gets an idea of where to look for her when he picks up her Book again. By the time she is 16, she has started to go to the library. He reads that she likes the works of Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, all the classics. He finds out that most of the passages in her Book take place at night, her most exciting experiences that she focuses on and wants to remember happen when the sky is at its darkest. She seems to just go through the motions in the day, she has a routine and she barely changes it. But the night is, he figures, the most fitting time of day for her, it suits her perfectly.

So, obviously, he attempts to find her again. He's reaching the last pages of her Book, although they grow everyday. Every morning he wakes up to find that the Book underneath his pillow has expanded a couple more pages, and he finds himself thinking throughout the day about what the following passages could entail.

This time, however, he has more of a chance. He's not just helplessly looking for a random girl with dark features anymore. No, now he knows to look in libraries at night time.

He settles it down to three with the help of Combeferre. He tries to make the request as simple as possible, tries to force his voice into tricking Combeferre into thinking his question was merely an afterthought. But, once again, Combeferre smiles knowingly and just tells him where the nearest libraries are, and their closing hours. He guesses she probably lives in his area, since she dropped her Book near his home. Maybe. What if she didn't live near him? What if she lived on the other side of Paris? Perhaps he had absolutely no chance of finding her, of returning her Book safely into her hands, of proclaiming his love for her, of getting to- wait, what?

He starts with the nearest library to his house. It's small and quaint, and the door creaks as he opens it. He tries to act as innocent as possible, picking up a book from the history section and sitting down with it in a strategic seat that gives him a clear view of all the inhabitants of the small space. He settles the book on the table in front of him, hunches his back and head over the pages, and slides his eyes up so he can study the people.

There's a man who looks to be in his forties with a white beard and murky green clothing sitting about ten feet away from him, his eyes close to shutting as he tries to focus on the newspaper in front of him. Not him.

A young girl with blonde hair who looks to be about his age is sat on a blue sofa in the corner of the room. Her hair is in plaits and she is reading a romance novel by some guy called John Green. He watches her for a while, but settles on the fact that, no, it can't be her. His girl likes to read classics.

The rest of the people either look to old to be sixteen, are boys, or are actually texting rather than reading the works of Wilde like he knows his girl would be.

He gives up when he gets shooed out of the library by the middle aged librarian with thick rimmed glasses on and white hair. Not her either then.

That night, as he reads the extract from today in her Book, he finds out that she did in fact go to the library. He sighs before tucking the Book beneath his pillow and falling to sleep.

The second library is bigger than the last, but still relatively small. He goes there the following night, and he has to call Combeferre for directions embarrassedly. It's hidden behind a large supermarket, and he awkwardly shuffles past the large families doing their weekly shopping.

This library looks more modern, and for some reason, he has a good feeling about this place. There are way more books than the last library, and he smiles when he thinks that, yes, this must be the place his girl likes to spend her nights.

Once again, he goes to the history section, chooses a book which he deems appropriate and interesting, but not too appealing to pull him from his intended reason for visiting. He settles down in the corner of the room, but he has to crane his neck to see past some of the shelves and analyse some of the other people. Unfortunately, he is too tired to concentrate on anything. But he's determined. He can do this.

There's a boy in smart clothing who's scribbling frantically on a stack of paper, furiously looking up to a textbook every couple of seconds. Not him.

There's a group of posh looking women with matching, obviously dyed blonde hair, laughing about something, all of them sat around a table with polystyrene cups in their manicured hands. He doubts she's one of them.

He looks down at the book in front of him, and the last thing he sees is a flash of black clothing and long brown hair in his peripheral vision before he falls abruptly to sleep.

On the third night, he takes Combeferre with him to the last library. He's pretty pumped about this last one. If he has any chance in finding her, this will be the place.

Apparently, this is Combeferre's favourite library, and he only realises why when he gets inside. It's almost completely empty, apart from the old librarian and a scruffy ten year old boy playing video games on the computer. Combeferre smiles at him, and frowns at his discontented face.

"What's wrong?" He murmurs, obviously trying to stick to the cliche library rules.

"There are absolutely no girls in here." He gets that he probably sounds like an absolute tool to the other people in the library, but he's too disgruntled to quieten his voice down, or explain that he's not actually trying to pull girls in a library to the other scarce members of the establishment.

"Why are you looking for a girl?" Combeferre smiles at him.

He narrows his eyes at his friend. "You know why."

Combeferre smiles. "Maybe you should make it absolutely clear."

He sighs. "This girl- she goes to a library every night. She likes to read."

"What's her name?"

"I- I don't know."

"How do you know her then?"

He shifts his eyes about the room. He immediately turns around and walks straight back to Combeferre's blue car. He wishes he had a key for the car so his mysterious reason for storming out would make more of an impact, but unfortunately, he doesn't, so he has to stand next to the passenger door and awkwardly wait for Combeferre to press the unlock button.

Once he is permitted to enter, he settles on the seat and leaves some silence to build the tension. He likes suspense, it always makes the things he does and says more interesting, forces people to listen to him.

"I found a Book."

Combeferre tenses. "What?"

He turns to face his friend. "I- it was on the floor as I was walking home. So I picked it up."

"Enjolras-"

"I didn't know what to do with it, but I just started reading it-"

"Enjolras-"

"And now I know everything about this girl, her age, her experiences, her-"

"Enjolras-"

"And now I don't know what else to do because I have absolutely no idea who she is, but I'm completely in love with her."

"Enjolras, this is illegal."

He sighs. He knows this. This is why he didn't tell everyone when he found it. "I know, but-"

"You could get put in jail for this."

"Combeferre, I can already alter what happens in my Book, that's pretty illegal. Adding another criminal offence onto the pile isn't going to make that much difference."

Combeferre just sighs and starts the car.

"Listen, Combeferre, I need to know who this girl is-"

"I don't- I don't care, Enjolras. Let's just go home."

Enjolras gives a confused look, then turns back around to look out of the passenger window like a child who just got a disapproving lecture from their father.

He goes home that night and doesn't open the Book. He just stares at it. Just sits it on his bed and watches it, trying to deduce something, anything from it.

"Enjolras, there's someone at the door for you." He hears the distant call of his mother, and his head snaps up immediately. He doesn't usually get people asking for him.

He jumps off his bed, leaving the Book laying there untouched, and walks dubiously down the stairs. When he reaches the brown wood of the front door, he sees Combeferre stood there, a secretive look on his face.

"Can you- can you come outside for a moment?"

They stand there under the dark sky, and Combeferre gives him an idea that could make everything so much easier.

He doesn't know if it will work, but he spends his time thinking about it anyway. It's dangerous, that's for sure. He thinks it's one of the most illegal things you could probably do concerning a Book. Nevertheless, he tries to plan it out anyway.

Combeferre wasn't sure how he would do it, he just found the end result. And Enjolras doesn't really do the whole planning and logistics side of things, he prefers the impulsive actions. Unfortunately, this seems to be one of those things that need a lot of planning and serious dedication.

He'd never even heard of it before when Combeferre proposed the solution. He didn't think it was humanly possible, but, then again, some people may not think it possible to change their Book's accounts.

So he tries it.

He gets the girl's Book and places it on his bed, making sure it is the only thing he can see he sits directly across from it, just like all the times before.

He's nervous, and it's obvious. He doesn't think his powers can handle this, he doesn't think he's capable of this.

He can change his own past experiences, but can he change another person's future experiences?

He opens the Book to the last page and skims his eyes over the new writing. She went to the park with her brother and he fell down and scraped his knee. He tries to imagine it, but stops when he realises he has absolutely no physical idea of her. So he just focuses on his task at hand.

Like with his other power, he just thinks of what he wants to happen. He imagines it. They'd meet at a library, naturally, as it seems only right, and their hands would bump into each other as they both reach for the same book. Yeah, that's what he wants to happen.

He closes his eyes. And he plays that story through his head, really thinks about the details. The colour of the carpet, the different books on the shelves. The only blurry thing is the girl.

When he opens his eyes again, nothing has changed. The last page is still blank. He sighs, feeling a strange disappointment set into his gut. He slides the Book under his pillow and leans on it, willing his mind to let him sleep.

There's a girl. A girl at the café. With their group. It shocks him, and he avoids her all night. He has no actual experience with girls, besides from his literary experience, that is. She's got wild brown hair, and freckles all over her face. She's sat with Joly and Bossuet, a heavy chuckle flowing from her red lips.

He enquires about her. Courfeyrac tells him that her name is Musichetta, and that she's a friend of Bossuet and Joly. She doesn't have powers, but apparently she's hilarious and can get Courfeyrac into clubs for free, so she's allowed into their group.

She's not his girl, he's sure of this by the end of the night. She's the co-owner of a club, spends her nights running the busiest one in the city with her cousin, so he knows it isn't her.

She makes Joly and Bossuet strangely happy, so he doesn't mind the fact that she starts becoming a regular at their meetings.

She brings friends along sometimes. A couple called Marius and Cosette who seem to be weirdly connected at all times, they come almost every week after the first time he's introduced to Musichetta. Cosette is like a bird, light and dainty, and Marius is like a puppy, constantly tripping over things and looking for love and attention. He learns that Cosette likes to read, something which sparks an interest in his mind, but he quickly dismisses it when he realises there is no Marius in his girl's Book.

That is, until one night when Marius' name is mentioned in her Book. She met him at the library, in fact. How convenient. He doesn't like the way she keeps getting close to him, or the way he doesn't reject her slight advances. It unfortunately means he has to glare at Marius every time he sees him, sending disapproving glances at him every time he speaks.

One day, when he reads her Book, there is another account in which Marius is mentioned. The content of the account makes him throw the Book onto the bed and go for a run to clear his head.

He doesn't dare bring it up. There is no possible reason for him to know it happened, so he doesn't want to seem suspicious. But he needs to tell someone.

Combeferre seems the ideal option, but he's already concerned with him, so he decides against it. Joly is close with Musichetta, who is close with Marius, which could only lead to disaster. He's not close enough with anybody to explain everything.

So he goes with Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac can be a gossip at times, but he is also faithful and loyal, so he knows he can trust him.

He encounters him at the next meeting, sitting down next to him while the wild haired boy is texting someone.

"I need to tell you a secret."

He can literally see the curiosity peak in the brown haired boy. His eyes light up, and he turns his whole body to watch him.

"Go on."

"But you can't tell anyone."

This only seems to entice him more. "I promise."

"Marius cheated on Cosette."

Courfeyrac's eyes widen and he sits back in his chair. He is silent for a while.

"How do you know?"

He didn't expect this question. He panics. He can't tell the truth, he doesn't know who is listening in on the conversation. Should he lie? He can't think on the spot, what should he do, oh my god, oh my god-

"I saw it."

Courfeyrac nods slowly. "Where?"

He feels his face get hot. "In the- in the library."

"Who was it?"

It was his girl.

"I don't know."

Courfeyrac nods again. "Should we tell Cosette?"

Enjolras' eyes widen. He hadn't thought about that. He supposes that she deserves to know, but how was he supposed to say it? He couldn't, not when his story of how he found out is so unconvincing and secretive. He just shrugs his shoulders, and watches Courfeyrac look ahead silently for awhile before nodding at him quickly and going back to texting.

Marius comes clean actually. He doesn't need to be provoked by either Courfeyrac or himself. He tells Cosette in the middle of a meeting, and Enjolras and Courfeyrac share an anxious glance.

Cosette and Marius are sat across from one another at a table. He doesn't actually hear him say the words, but Enjolras can guess what they meant when he hears the loud sob that escapes Cosette's throat.

"It-it didn't mean anything, I swear-"

"That doesn't help at all, you still did it."

By now, the room is completely silent.

"I didn't eve-"

"Who was it?"

Marius looks affronted. "What?"

"Who's the girl? Do I know her?"

"N-n-", at Cosette's raised eyebrow, he pauses. "Yes."

"Who was it Marius?"

He looks down at the table and says the name so quietly Enjolras has to strain his ears to understand it.

"Éponine."

Enjolras leans back in his chair, mentally making a note of the name. He suddenly feels bad. He has gained something from this break up.

"Your- your English tutor?" Cosette gasps and stands up. She takes a deep breath, grabs her coat and looks Marius straight in the eyes. "We're done." The calm way in which she says it even scares Enjolras.

She slams the door on the way out and nobody says anything for about five minutes until Bahorel comes barging in laughing.

So she's called Éponine.

That night, he just lays on his bed thinking about the girl. He starts to imagine her. Would she have blonde hair or brown hair? Bright eyes or dark eyes? There were too many options, so Enjolras just settled for what he knew.

She was good at English, that's for sure. Her love for books and libraries explained the English tutoring, despite the fact that there was only one session in which Marius had planted one on her.

He figured he was as close as ever now though. He just needed one more push, another clue, another account to be able to tell where he can find her.

He's certain he has a deep connection with this girl, and he's determined as hell to get to her.

He falls to sleep thinking of her and listening to the gentle rain outside.

He wakes up to frantic knocking on his bedroom door.

He jumps up and nearly falls out of bed, trying desperately to shove his curls out of his eyes and try and slow down his beating heart. He checks the clock: 5:48AM. Seriously? Even he doesn't get up that early. He's strictly a 6AM kind of guy.

When he realises that he's been sat staring at the clock for a while, he jumps up and stumbles to the brown door, the door that hasn't stopped making that goddamn noise yet.

He pulls it open and Grantaire is stood there. He has a contemplative look on his face, but he swears he sees his face twitch into a smile, losing the serious look for about a millisecond, before going back to interested and stoic.

He walks straight past him and sits down on his bed, leaving Enjolras stood there in the doorway. He closes the door and takes a seat his desk chair, spinning around on it slightly to ease the silence.

He hears Grantaire take a deep breath in. "Do you know why Marius and Cosette broke up?"

He blinks. "Yes, Marius cheated on her."

Grantaire nods. "But did you know before?"

"Well, no, of course n-"

"I overheard your conversation with Courfeyrac, so drop the act."

Enjolras sighs and leans back in his chair. "Yes, okay. I knew before everything kicked off yesterday."

Grantaire leans towards him and interlinks his own hands. "Who was the girl?"

He stutters out an answer. "I don't- I don't know."

Grantaire seems doubtful. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Are you _really_ sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason. It's just that I know who the girl is and I wanted to make sure you didn't."

He sits up straight. "What? You know who she is?"

"Yes, her family knows my family- it's messy."

"Éponine?"

"The one and only."

He gives a relieved grin. "Well, can you take me to her?"

Grantaire gives a disapproving frown. "Did you not hear what I said? I want to keep you away from her at all costs."

"But- why?"

"Éponine can't have a boyfriend."

Then Enjolras realises. Grantaire must have feelings for her. It's weird though, Grantaire was never mentioned in her Book. It doesn't add up.

"Why?"

"She's just too- she can't. End of story." Grantaire lays down on his bed. He tiredly sighs out. "Listen, marble boy, it's too early for me to be dealing with your crap, so let's just get this over and done with."

"Wha-? You came to me! I don't-", he cuts himself off. His voice has started to go really high and frankly it's embarrassing.

"Éponine doesn't know who you are. I don't know how you know her or where you got any of the Marius related information from, but you have got to stop it. She's got important information, experiences that people cannot know about. You getting attached to her and, from the looks of it, stalking her, is not wise at all. You don't know her family, I do. If they have any sneaking suspicion that you are trying to get into what they are doing, they will have y-", he tenses and stops speaking abruptly.

Enjolras eyes Grantaire. He seems to be staring at something. He follows his eyes, but it's too late when he understands what it is.

"What is that?"

He tries to play it off, forcing his voice to sound casual. "That's my- that's my Book."

He's still staring at the blackness of the cover. "I've seen your Book, it's red." He turns to face Enjolras. "Whose Book is that?"

At Enjolras' wide eyes and gaping mouth, Grantaire puts the pieces together. He nods. "This is how you know."

Enjolras nods.

"Where did you find it?"

"On the street." His voice comes out smaller than expected, and he sounds like a scared little boy.

"And you've been reading her life ever since?"

Enjolras nods again.

Grantaire goes to pick up the Book, but Enjolras jumps up abruptly, a feeling of protectiveness coming over him. He feels special knowing all of this information about Éponine, he feels uncomfortable letting everyone else into it. He grabs the Book and holds it tightly.

"Listen, blondie, you need to give it back to her."

"I know. And I will. I've been trying to find her-", he tries to explain.

"Give it to me."

He unconsciously draws the Book up to his chest. "No."

"Enjolras-"

"No, if anybody is going to give the Book back, it'll be me."

Grantaire sighs. "Fine." Enjolras' eyebrows shoot up. "I'll take you to her house, okay?"

Enjolras stands up straight and nods, an excited smile on his face. As Grantaire stands up and stretches, he can literally feel the anticipation building inside of him.

By the time they get there, it has been more than half an hour and they've travelled to the, as Grantaire calls is, rougher part of Paris. In all honesty, Enjolras didn't even know it existed. But he can definitely understand what Grantaire means. It's not just the fact that there is a constant unease settled in his stomach, it's that there is a significant lack of people walking around and chatting to each other. On the off-chance that he does see any people, they're all huddled together and talking in hushed voices, or they're hurriedly rushing along the edges of the streets. Frankly, he doesn't know where he is, and he doesn't really want to.

Grantaire leads him to the end of a street, and stops in front of an obviously rundown, decrepit inn. There is graffiti on the wall and he can see signs of water leaking from a crack in the stone. The door is open and he just stands there for a while, waiting for Grantaire to elaborate.

When the dark haired man doesn't say anything, he looks blankly at him, shrugging his shoulders. "Well?"

"What?" Grantaire says. "This is it."

He swallows. "Oh."

Eventually, after standing there for just about a minute, he leans forward awkwardly and knocks at the door. After a brief pause, a dark voice behind him makes him jump.

"What do you want?" The gruffness of his voice makes fear grow inside him, and he subtly takes a step back. The man has frizzy, grey hair and is at least 6'3", towering over himself and Grantaire. He's wearing scruffy brown clothes and there is a visible amount of mud covering his cheeks and forehead. The man looks Enjolras up and down and turns his lip up at him, glaring at him, despite the mischievous look in his eyes. He seems to focus in on Enjolras' messenger bag as well, which makes Enjolras nervous.

Then the man seems to take in Grantaire, and he is surprised to see that he nods at him instead of giving him the same greeting as he gave Enjolras. "Good to see you, R." He tips his hat mockingly.

Grantaire sneers at him. "Wish I could say the same, Thenardiér."

The man laughs at him, a deep belly laugh that startles Enjolras even more. He glances at Enjolras again, before pointing his question at Grantaire. "What do you want?"

"We want to see Éponine." Grantaire gets straight to it, not caring about the flash of anger that lights up Thenardiér's eyes.

"I'm afraid that can't be arranged, though." Thenardiér turns around and walks through the decayed door. Grantaire follows him, so Enjolras awkwardly walks with them, feeling completely out of place. He almost feels like he's third wheeling the conversation, as he just stands there and looks around.

The inn is large, but at the same time, unbelievably cramped. Random pieces of wood and broken furniture litter the ground floor, and he can see a thick layer of dust on the walls and the rare still-intact mantelpieces. There seems to be three floors, and he finds himself looking around and trying to find any person, but he can just hear loud, rambunctious laughing coming from a room somewhere above him. There is a larger staircase in the middle of the space, and it is adorned by a grubby red carpet with patches of black spilt on it.

"And why not?" Grantaire crosses his arms.

"Because she is currently with Montparnasse." Thenardiér smirks at him. At this, Enjolras' ears prick up and he turns to glare at Thenardiér.

"What? Who the fuc-"

"Where are they?"

Thenardiérs turns on him and looks at him fully, and speaks in a low voice. "What?" He looks dangerously at Enjolras, who suddenly feels very small.

Despite this, he steels himself, pushes his chest out subtly, and tries to clear his throat without making it obvious. "Where are they?"

"Why do you care?" Thenardiér sneers at him.

When Enjolras stutters, Grantaire jumps in. "We need to see her. It's important."

Thenardiér then laughs. "'Ponine? She's nothing important, it's already baffling my mind that she has two male callers asking for her."

"Listen, Thenardiér. My friend here needs to speak to Éponine immediately. Just tell us where she is, please." Grantaire's voice gets louder by the word, and Enjolras almost jumps back at how loud he is by the end of it.

"Fine," Thenardiér smiles, "I'll go get them."

Enjolras steps forward as Thenardiér advances up the stairs. "N-no." He turns around and looks at him. "Just Éponine," he swallows, "please."

Thenardiér's eyes narrow. "Who are you?"

He clears his throat. "I'm Enjolras." He tries to say it as clear as possible, but, to him, it sounds strangled and puny.

"Oh," Thenardiér smirks. "You're one of those...", he stares at him for a while, "bourgeois."

Enjolras sighs and pulls down his burgundy coat. He hates that, how he's perceived as one of those people, who uphold money and status over everything else. He keeps silent. Thenardiér turns and walks up the stairs, slumping as he goes.

When he's safely out of view, Grantaire turns to him. "That's her father." He rolls his dark eyes.

"I took the hints."

Grantaire nods.

"How should I tell her?"

Grantaire shrugs. "Just tell her."

He sighs and shifts on his feet. "Yeah, but should I give her the Book and then tell her how I feel, or should I tell her how I feel and then give her the Book?"

Grantaire looks at him. "How do you feel about her?"

Enjolras looks down and sighs. "I love her. Which is bad, considering I've never met her."

"Wow. Yeah, that is tough. I guess it means-"

"R?"

They immediately look up to the voice. It's a deep voice, a low alto, but it still has an airiness that Enjolras can hear through only one syllable. He stares at her. Dark hair lays atop her head, and, even from the distance, Enjolras can tell that it hasn't been brushed in days. She's wearing a brown skirt that barely passes her shins, a dirty cream camisole, and a pair of men's boots. The clothes look too big for her small, bony body. She also has the darkest eyes Enjolras has ever seen, but instead of being mischievous and deadly like her father's, they are wide and bright. He lets a smile crawl into his face.

Behind her, however, is the complete opposite of Enjolras. A man, whom he assumes is Montparnasse, dressed all in black. Black eyes, black hair, black clothes. Yet, despite the surroundings, Montparnasse's clothes seem to be fine and rich, not unlike clothes Enjolras himself owns. He somehow gave off the uncontrollable aura of someone who shouldn't be trusted, and since Enjolras knew the type of things Montparnasse was capable of and had done to Éponine in the past, he felt uncomfortable and protective of Éponine who stood close to the black haired dandy.

"'Ponine, hi! I haven't seen you in such a long time!" Grantaire actually had a sincere grin on his face as Éponine blinded down the stairs and hugged Grantaire. Montparnasse followed her, and stood just a foot away from Éponine, all the while keeping a close eye on everything Grantaire did. Enjolras stood next to Grantaire, awkwardly watching Éponine and glaring at Montparnasse through his peripheral vision. He hoped Montparnasse sensed that he hated him, as Enjolras was much too gentlemanly and proper to say it directly and explicitly.

When they pulled back from their hug, Éponine looked at Enjolras through the corner of her eye, and Enjoras smiled at her. In hindsight, it probably looked very creepy and desperate.

"Éponine, this is Enjolras. He, uh, he needs to speak to you alone." He nodded towards Enjolras, who lifted a hand and did the most stupid and dumb wave he could muster in the moment. He mentally slapped himself.

"Hi, me- I mean, I name is- wait, no. My name is, yeah, my name is Enjolras." He could literally feel his face burning up.

"Okay...", she smiled. "What is it you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, actually, I wanted to speak to you alone. You know, just the two of us, maybe."

She laughed loudly, and he could actually feel it affecting him physically.

Montparnasse then coughed loudly, cutting off her laughter. "I'm Montparnasse. Éponine's fiancé." The smugness of his voice was implemented by the smirk on his face.

"That doesn't mean I can't talk to other men, 'Parnasse, so don't be rude." Éponine said gruffly, glaring at Montparnasse, who glared straight back at her. However, once their glaring match had finished, it was Montparnasse who relented, sighed and nodded his consent. As if she needed it.

"Where would you like to go?" She walked towards him, smiling and strolling towards the door.

"Wherever's best for you."

They ended up walking along the Seine. He told her everything, and she thanked him. He gave her back the Book and he eventually told her of his feelings, to which she smiled and took his hand, holding it as they passed the bridge.

When he got home that night, he read his own Book, and smiled as he saw the account of Éponine and himself sharing their first kiss on the river bank, their two Books laid on top of each other.


End file.
